Ryke made a low sound in his throat—half laugh, half disbelief. “And we’re just sitting here in a bakery, talking about it over pastries like it’s a school project?”

“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Callen said. Still by the door. Still watching. “Noise keeps the pocket from pushing through. And people make the most noise without meaning to.”

“Great,” Ryke muttered. “We’ll just live here now. I call top bunk by the ovens.”

Ezra ignored him. “We need to find the other names in the ledger. If we keep them alive, the bell can’t finish the set.”

Lira frowned. “You’re talking about saving strangers when you’re the one marked.”

Ezra’s eyes locked on hers. “That’s why I’m talking about it.”

Callen stepped away from the door at last. “You don’t have as much time as you think.”

Ezra straightened. “How much, then?”

Callen paused. And that alone made the room feel colder.

“Long enough for one choice,” he said. “Not long enough for two.”

The smell of bread and sugar didn’t make the place feel safe anymore.

Then a shadow moved across the front window.

Not a customer—too fast. Too sharp in outline.

Lira’s hand slid toward the table, ready to push off. Callen was already moving, crossing the room in three strides and yanking the door open.

Cold air spilled in. So did a fluttering sound.

A black feather drifted across the threshold.

The crow landed on the railing just outside. Metal claws clicked against paint.

Its head tilted toward them. In its beak—another strip of tarnished metal.

Ezra swore. “Already?”

Callen’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not for him.”

The crow angled the metal into the streetlight.

LIRA.

Her stomach dropped. She’d half expected it.

But expecting and seeing were two different things.

Ryke exhaled. “Guess the bell likes to keep the party small.”

The crow dropped the strip. It clinked against the pavement with a sound that was too final—like the air bent around it.

And the bird stayed. Watching.

Lira felt the others looking at her. But she didn’t take her eyes off the crow.

She’d heard the bell first. She’d pulled Ryke back.
Now her name was next.

The bell didn’t chime.
But in the silence, she could almost hear it thinking.

Ezra broke the stillness. “We can’t split up. Not now.”

Ryke blinked. “That’s your plan? Huddle together and wait for the bell to collect us like overdue books?”

“No,” Ezra snapped. “We stay together because when we’re alone, the bell has more space to pull us in. Four names or not—proximity matters.”

Callen didn’t argue.

That alone made Lira’s pulse spike.

She glanced at the strip on the sidewalk. “If we’re both marked now, what about Ryke?”

Callen’s voice was low. “The ledger still has one name we haven’t seen.”

“And the fourth?” Ryke asked.

Callen’s gaze shifted past the crow, into the thickening fog.
“If we don’t find them,” he said,
“the bell will.”

Ezra tapped the recorder. “We start mapping again. Same as before—three points, breath-gaps, triangulate the pocket. But this time, we get there first.”

Ryke groaned. “Homework. With ghosts. Love that for us.”

Lira ignored him. “How much time?”

Callen’s reply was almost drowned out by the bakery’s radio.

“Enough for one more rescue,” he said. “Maybe.”

No one touched the pastries.

They left the bakery together, the bell’s invisible weight pressing down on their shoulders.

The crow stayed on the railing. Watching.

It didn’t follow—but its head turned as they passed, tracking their direction.

Outside, the fog had thickened. Coiled low along the ground, like it wanted to hide their feet.

Ezra walked ahead, recorder in one hand, satchel in the other.

Ryke trailed behind him, muttering about the stupidity of ghost-hunting when you were already on death’s list.

Lira walked in the middle, keeping pace with Callen.

“You said we have one rescue left,” she murmured. “What if we try for more?”

Callen didn’t look at her.

“The bell closes the ledger,” he said. “The rest don’t come back.”

She didn’t ask if “the rest” meant the marked—or all of them.

They reached the main intersection. Four streets met like a cross. Streetlamps glowed in the mist.

One of them was flickering.

On. Off. On again.

Then a pause—too long. Just off enough to feel intentional.

Ezra stopped walking. “That’s not random.”

Callen tilted his head, listening to the rhythm. “No,” he said. “That’s an invitation.”

Lira’s skin prickled.

The bell wasn’t just waiting for them to find the fourth name.

It was leading them to it.